


Quaffles and Waffles

by LittleSixx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSixx/pseuds/LittleSixx
Summary: Harry Potter indulged two guilty pleasures in one day: Quidditch and Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 297





	Quaffles and Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying my hand at new ships right now, so this is my first Drarry piece. After writing like 400K words' worth of Dramione this feels kind of sacrilege, but I wanted to give it a go. Quaffles & Waffles is something I made up for another fic, "Boy, Look at You, Looking at Me." Thought I'd expand on it here. This work has not been beta-read and takes place sometime in June/July 2001.

“You have to come!”

Dean Thomas was infuriatingly persistent. He started Quaffles and Waffles nearly a year earlier; monthly Quidditch meetups where amateurs could fly without criticism. Spectators were free to join and snack on Dean Thomas’s God-awful waffles. Ginny dumped Harry back in March, and while he wasn’t in the socializing mood, it had to be better than lunch with Ron or Hermione. They still had that look on their faces. The one facial expression that somehow contained both pity and “You really weren’t giving her enough.”

And that was the rub, wasn’t it? Harry never really had enough of himself to give to someone else. All his life, he had about fourteen percent more soul than he thought ... Fourteen percent that had quite literally disappeared. Harry wondered how much of himself Voldemort had taken along for the ride. 

The following Saturday, Harry Apparated to the park about ten minutes late. He plopped down at one of the tables next to Dean, who clapped him on the back. 

“Glad you came, mate.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled. “Your waffles improve at all?”

“Not a fucking bit,” Dean said with a wide grin. He grabbed a plate and set it in front of Harry. 

Whatever was on his plate could pass for food in the most general sense of the word. Truly, it was syrupy mush. Harry poked at it with a fork until Dean said,

“Nobody comes for the food, Harry. They come for the scrimmage, or they come to watch him.” Dean nodded toward a very familiar blond head at the centre of the bunch hovering over the pitch. 

The referee blew the whistle to signal the beginning of the game, and Harry frowned.

“People come here to watch Malfoy?” he asked, not bothering to hide his tone of disgust. 

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “He’s a prick, but goddamn, he’s a good Seeker. You might be able to beat him, but I dunno of anyone else who isn’t pro that could challenge his times. Once, he caught the Snitch right after the other team scored the first goal of the game.”

“Must have been a slow Snitch.”

“Or he’s just good.” Dean shrugged. “Hot as hell, too. Usually the women are queued up, but today was invitation-only.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I was tired of making so many goddamn waffles.”

Harry laughed and focused on the match. There was only one hoop at either end of the field instead of the regulation three, but the pitch was full-size. He recognized a couple of the players. Alicia Spinnet was a Chaser for the purple team while Oliver Wood was a chaser for the blue team. But he found his eyes were drawn to Draco Malfoy, hovering patiently above the action, just waiting for the Snitch to reveal itself. 

Age hadn’t thawed anyone’s competitive drive. In fact, they all played with renewed vigor. When Harry mentioned as much, Dean leaned backward in his chair, far enough to tempt gravity.

“The war ended three years ago, but no one has found a good way to move on. Think you probably know that better than anyone.”

Harry agreed.

“I think this helps,” Dean said. “It’s distracting enough so they forget about the past ten years. They channel their adrenaline and their frustration into this, so they don’t take it out on those they love.”

Harry glared at him.

“You have all the subtlety of a dungbomb.”

Dean shrugged and returned his attention to the match. Harry did the same, as Malfoy began a dive toward something that glinted gold in the sunlight. Before Harry could say, “He’s seen it!” Malfoy’s fingers wrapped around the golden ball and he raised his fist high in the air to signal the end of the game. Harry’s mouth fell open as the referee blew his whistle again.

“What the hell was that? Five minutes, tops?”

“Told you he’s brilliant at this. Now we start the relays and trials, see who can throw the Quaffle through the hoop more times in a row, that sort of thing.”

Harry nodded, and poked at his waffles while the players resettled. He heard someone approach and looked up to see Malfoy sauntering toward their table. Harry’s heart leapt up into his throat because Dean was right, and Malfoy was hot as hell. His white-blond hair was soaked in sweat and wind-whipped so it fell in a heap across his forehead. Harry spotted a pink flush peeking out from the top of Malfoy’s robe. Slender, gloved fingers wrapped around the handle of his broom and he was taller than Harry remembered. 

“Finally join the ballet, Potter?” he shouted from a few metres away.

Harry rolled his eyes in response, but Malfoy was undeterred.

“Which was worse, having the Dark Lord attached to your soul or that first bite of Dean’s waffles?”

“The waffles,” Harry replied without hesitation.

Dean playfully punched his arm.

“That is what I would have guessed.” Malfoy winked. Malfoy fucking winked at him! 

Harry found himself staring down at his nearly-full plate of waffles to hide the blush he knew was highlighting his cheeks. It only made him hate Malfoy more. He had always been a flirt to anyone he deemed worthy, and even sometimes to those he didn’t. It was always a playful thing, never to be taken seriously and Harry knew it, but ... God, had Malfoy always been so good-looking? Harry had never seen him without his face contorted in fear or hatred.

“Like what you see, Potter?”

“Wha-what?” Harry stuttered. He ran his hand through his hair and repeated, “Sorry, what?”

“My flying.” Harry looked up to see Malfoy grinning like a snake who had just spotted its prey. “Did you like watching me fly?”

“Didn’t get to see much,” Harry quipped. “You sat there for five minutes then dove for the Snitch. Nothing impressive about that.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

**.oOo.**

Harry sat there for the rest of the activities with Dean’s eyes boring a hole in the side of his head. He didn’t need to look over to know Dean was grinning from ear-to-ear. 

“You’re thinking about Malfoy, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re thinking about him in the shower.”

Well he sure was, now. Knowing Malfoy was mere metres away, stripped naked beneath a steady stream of hot water ... Harry shifted in his chair then focused his thoughts on Professor Snape and baby Mandrakes. 

Malfoy appeared fifteen minutes later and plopped into the seat next to Harry. His hair was damp from his shower, and Harry’s blood began rushing south once again. He watched Oliver Wood make seven consecutive shots through the single hoop, thinking of Draco Malfoy all the while. Without saying a word, Malfoy made his presence known. Harry could smell his soap, raspberries or something equally sweet.

With all the screwups in Harry’s love life over the past six years, getting hard over Draco Malfoy was pretty much rock-bottom. He knew he was being a complete arse when he stood up from his chair and walked away to the Disapparition point. He needed to hate Malfoy a little bit right then, because that was familiar. Whatever he was doing to Harry’s dick was not welcome. He’d spent the entire time watching Malfoy, thinking about Malfoy, then smelling Draco Malfoy. 

Malfoy had perfect control, which only infuriated Harry further. It’s all that skill in romance Harry never learned. He angrily stomped away from the group, Dean Thomas not bothering to look away from the games. So when Harry felt someone pursuing him, he knew exactly who it was. Harry felt Malfoy’s hand on his shoulder before he was unceremoniously spun around. Harry knocked his hand away and shouted,

“What the hell?!”

“I could ask the same of you, Potter. What the bloody hell are you on about?”

“I just ...” Harry knew he was being petulant. He could tell from Malfoy’s guarded expression that his abrupt departure had hurt him on some level. Perhaps the flirting had been an olive branch of sorts? “I came here to get away from everything and you are definitely,” Harry waved a hand up and down to indicate his general Malfoyness, “everything.”

“Bad memories?” Malfoy asked.

Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose and shook his head.

“More like the knowledge that I can’t make new ones.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m always going to be the Boy Who Lived, the man with the broken soul.”

“If you want to talk broken souls, I’m your man,” Malfoy quipped.

Harry laughed and said, “It’s not your words I’d be interested in Malfoy,” before he could stop himself. Harry clapped one hand over his mouth, and Malfoy’s expression shifted instantly. 

He stepped closer, so close he and Harry were almost sharing the same air.

“I see ...” He smiled and leaned down to whisper in Harry’s ear. “What is it you want from me, Potter?”

Malfoy’s voice, hot against his ear, sent fire through Harry’s veins. A heat that settled at the base of his spine. Harry looked up through his eyelashes to see Draco Malfoy smiling, lips maybe a dozen centimetres from his own.

Harry couldn’t say what part of his brain thought it’d be a good idea to say, “Come home with me?”

“I’d like that,” Malfoy admitted. 

Before Harry could stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and Apparated to his house in Godric’s Hollow. They were spat out in Harry’s bedroom, Draco’s fingers wrapped around his hips supposedly in the name of retaining balance.

“What do you want, Potter?”

Harry admitted, “I dunno.”

“You just wanted me?”

Harry’s mouth was suddenly very dry. When he didn’t say anything, Draco took Harry by the shoulders and roughly pressed him against the wall. 

“I will only ask once more, Potter, and be careful how you answer.” Draco paused and Harry saw vulnerability clouding his grey eyes. “What do you want?”

He croaked out, “I just wanted to forget. Do you, erm, d’you think you could do that?” 

Draco leaned closer, just enough so his hips pressed against Harry’s crotch. He couldn’t help the low moan it pulled from the back of his throat. He tried to reach forward, but Draco’s hold was tight. When he tried to move his hips further out, Draco leaned back so he was just out of reach. Harry wanted to look away, but didn’t quite know how. Draco lined his pelvis up with Harry’s and pressed their lower halves together.

“Do you want to forget?” Draco’s words were hot in Harry’s ear. “Or do you want me to fuck you so hard you can’t think straight?”

Harry shivered against him, and he flushed upon realizing he was half-hard just from Malfoy’s words. God, he hated Draco, but this was exactly what he wanted. 

“Want to punch the smirk off your face,” Harry mumbled. “Thought about you in the showers and--”

“And what?” Draco asked as he pressed himself harder against Harry.

“I, um,” Harry mumbled, short of breath as his vision began to telescope. “Just wanted to be in there with you.”

“No,” Draco replied, running his hands down Harry’s sides to rest on his hips. “I want to take you on a bed, like a proper gentleman.”

Harry snorted.

“Gentleman?”

Draco bit down on the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder, eliciting another moan.

“I won’t be gentle, then.”

Draco kissed him, firm and unrelenting. Harry’s lips parted instinctively as he allowed Draco to taste and take as he pleased. Snogging with Malfoy was messy and violent and their teeth clacked together more than once because they could not quite find a rhythm. Malfoy pulled back to nip at Harry’s bottom lip and grind against him, so Harry threw his head back against the wall. He winced at the pain, but cursed as Draco trailed kisses along his jaw then down his neck.

Harry mumbled, “Please.”

He’d never thought about Malfoy this way. He was thin but toned, and all Harry could think about was how those long fingers would feel wrapped around his dick. There had always been something simmering between them, so volatile it usually resulted in a violent explosion. This time was no different, with Malfoy hungrily snogging him like this was the only chance he would ever get.

Harry lied to himself and promised it was. Again, he whispered, “Please,” against Draco’s lips. Draco smiled and stepped away. He nodded then demanded,

“Take your clothes off, Potter, and get on the bed.”

“Merlin’s arse, how are you so calm right now?!” Harry shouted. “I am ... I am ...”

“Nervous. You’re nervous, but there is no cause for you to be afraid. As for why I am so calm? I am getting exactly what I want.”

“You want me?” Harry asked, confused. 

Draco grabbed Harry’s hand and pressed it against the crotch of his trackies. Harry felt the hard length between his fingers and a tiny gasp passed through his lips.

“I want you very, very much.”

Harry obeyed like he had been placed under an Imperius curse. He toed off his trainers and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He fumbled with the button on his jeans for so long that Draco swatted his hands away and undid it for him. He pulled down the zipper and Harry jolted forward just as Draco pulled his hand away. Harry pushed his jeans and pants down together and stepped out of them. He pulled off his socks then walked around Draco to sit on the edge of the bed.

He stared down at the floor, well aware he was blushing all the way down his chest. There was a moment when he hated himself for doing this, and hated Draco even more. Harry knew this was a bad idea, but the reason was hidden somewhere at the back of his mind he couldn’t quite access. He looked over to see Draco appraising him, so Harry shifted to the middle of the bed to give him a better look.

“Yes, Potter, just like that ...” Draco trailed off as he tugged his t-shirt over his head.

Harry frowned, then stared, shamefaced, at the quilt covering his bed. Malfoy had three raised, knotted scars slicing across his chest. Part of Harry yearned to reach out and touch them, but it was quickly quashed by guilt.

“I’ve made my peace with it, Potter.” Draco paused for a beat before he asked, “Have you?”

Harry shook his head. 

“Haven’t made peace with much of anything.”

“Is that what this is?” Draco asked. “Am I ... Step one?”

“If you’re a good enough shag, perhaps you can be steps one, two, and three,” Harry teased. 

“If there is one thing I am good at, Potter, it’s this.”

“Thought it was Quidditch.”

“Right then, two things.”

Draco pushed down his trackies and pants, so Harry took his time ogling. Draco Malfoy had defined abs and a trail of blond hair traveling from his navel down to his bollocks. Before Harry could say anything, Draco followed him onto the bed and straddled his hips. Draco grabbed his hands and pushed them above his head. It was quite unfair, since Draco had so much porcelain skin and kept it just out of Harry’s reach. 

The sight of Draco above him, biceps and forearms flexing as he used one hand to press Harry’s wrists into the mattress, was enough to drive Harry mad. He caught Draco’s gaze and admitted,

“I haven’t done this in awhile. Might, erm, might not last quite as long as you’d like.”

Draco kissed him again, lighter this time. Slower. He released his hold on Harry only to take one wrist in each hand and press them down into the quilt.

“I thought about wanking to you in the shower,” he admitted. “But the way you reacted to me, like you were ashamed of speaking to me? I thought it would be wrong to think of you in such a manner. But now that I have you underneath me, I am glad I did not because the real thing is far better than I could have ever imagined.”

Harry blushed and mumbled, “Flatterer.”

“Lube?”

“Side table.”

Draco Summoned it and Harry whimpered when Draco was no longer touching him. 

“Needy little one, aren’t you?”

Harry rolled his hips so their cocks brushed together and Draco jolted forward, nearly losing his grip on the bottle of lube. He mumbled, _ FUCK!_, then settled between Harry’s spread legs. Draco squirted some lube into his hand then palmed Harry’s dick.

“FUCK!” he shouted. He continued, “Fucking hell, yes, please, Malfoy ...” Harry was embarrassed and ready to be coming apart under Malfoy’s hand. Draco slid his hand up and down once and Harry arched his back. The motion continued and he fisted one of the pillowcases between his fingers. Harry hooked his top leg over Draco’s hip to open himself up.

Draco slid two slick fingers inside Harry, who sank further into the pillows. Malfoy pushed himself up on an elbow to watch Harry’s expressions as he slowly moved his fingers in and out. Harry’s eyes went wide and he bit down on his lip to prevent any more humiliating sounds from escaping. It almost worked.

“_Draco._”

He smiled and muttered, “I think you meant to say ‘please’ again.”

Harry nodded. It was difficult to think when Malfoy’s fingers were filling him; Draco calm and controlled while Harry was whimpering and needy beneath him. He couldn’t help the excitement that starts in his stomach and works its way up toward his heart as Draco added a third finger. His breathing became more ragged with each stroke.

“How do you want it?”

“You ...” Harry huffed. “On top.”

Draco chuckled and said, “I’d figured out that much for myself. I mean do you ...” He paused his ministrations enough to give Harry concern. He sat up on his elbows and watched Draco look nervously down at the quilt. “Do you want this to be hard and fast, or do you want it gentle?”

Harry shrugged and said, “Just make it feel real.”

“In case you couldn’t figure it out from my fingers in your ass, Potter, this is very real to me.”

Harry snorted and allowed his knees to spread further apart on the quilt.

“Then make it real to me.”

Draco slowly removed his fingers and Harry whimpered at the loss of contact. Draco grabbed his dick and lined up with Harry’s arse. He was almost ashamed of how easily he let Draco inside. But instead of tensing up, having Draco so close only forced him to relax. He pillowed his cheek on his arm and watched Draco out of one eye. He had one slick hand in the sheets and used the other to stroke Harry’s cock. Harry twisted up a bit to kiss Draco on the mouth, hot and slow like they were well-practiced lovers and not two former-enemies searching for hope in a fellow lost soul. 

“Harder,” Harry demanded. He pushed his hips up against Draco’s. “Fuck me so I feel it tomorrow.”

Draco grinned and said, “Only because you asked nicely.” He increased the speed of his hips, snapping against Harry’s pelvis. Draco threaded his fingers in Harry’s bed-mussed waves and pulled hard enough that Harry hissed in pain.

“Fuck yes,” Draco mumbled, “I like that.”

Harry reveled in the attention. Malfoy kept alternating between sloppy kisses and nipping at whatever part of Harry’s skin he was closest to. His neck, his shoulder, his ear ... God, Draco was hot like this, coated in a sheen of sweat and his eyes nearly black with lust. It was as though they were made for this, doing this together. Eventually they stop trying to be quiet, gasps and moans filled the room and their bodies were loud as they squelched apart before slapping together again.

Harry sat up on his elbows to watch the space where he and Malfoy were joined together. The visual of Draco’s dick sliding in, then out, and in once again was overwhelming. Draco glanced down and must have come to the same conclusion since he collapsed on top of Harry. Chest-to-chest, Draco changed the angle of his thrusts so he was going deeper. The change pulled his name once again from Harry’s lips. 

“Make me come, Malfoy.” He wrapped his arms around Draco’s back and begged, “Fuck, please.”

“Yeah,” Draco mumbled. He bent low to kiss the hollow of Harry’s throat. “So fucking pretty like this.” He palmed Harry’s dick again and his fingers were slick. 

One stroke, then another, and by the third every muscle in Harry’s body tensed up. He let out a strangled string of curses as Draco bit down on his shoulder. It had been so long since Harry had an orgasm not courtesy of his own hand, that it caught him by surprise. It snuck up on him, and he saw stars dance across the back of his eyelids. It felt like it lasted for hours, pleasure racking his limbs until he finally fell back into his body. All the muscles that had tensed beneath Malfoy’s touch were suddenly liquid as Draco’s hips continued their frenetic pace. 

He pressed his forehead to Harry’s temple as he came. Harry wrapped his legs around Draco and pulled him closer. He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and traced a line up and down his spine until Draco came down from his own high.

He pulled out and cleaned up quickly, muttering a spell Harry made a note to ask about later. He coaxed Malfoy down so they were nothing more than a tangle of limbs. Draco’s head was a comfortable weight against Harry’s shoulder. He turned slightly and Harry kissed him. It was slow at first, gentle, closed-mouth brushes of lips that turned into something deeper. Harry smiled against Draco’s lips then pulled away.

“I enjoyed that.”

“Yes, I know. You begging me for release was a good indication.”

Harry rolled his eyes then pressed their foreheads together. He was about to say something when his stomach rumbled. Draco giggled and gave Harry another quick snog.

“Were Dean’s waffles not satisfying enough?”

“Oh, I am well-satisfied,” Harry teased. He squeezed one of Draco’s arsecheeks and said, “But the waffles had nothing to do with it.”

“Let’s go to lunch, then.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked.

Draco smiled and Harry realized that he had never seen him quite this happy. His heart threatened to burst out of his ribcage at the thought. 

“Yes. God, Potter, I haven’t enjoyed anything this much in a very long time. After lunch we can come back here for step two: me blowing you until you scream my name.”

Harry hummed low in his throat then said, “Keep smiling at me like that and we won’t have time for lunch.”


End file.
